Pluie Rouge
by Tsuru-san
Summary: (title means: "Red Rain") Never trust a demon. (AsmodeusRaphael SLASH!)


This fic is dedicated to my French reviewer, Corenn. You've appreciated my writing and defended it, and I'm honored.I just happen to take French classes, andI hope this story is a fitting show of gratitude.

To those who don't speak French: this fic has smatterings of French in it (including the title itself which means "**Red Rain**"), but don't worry, there are footnote translations at the bottom.

As usual, I don't own the Bible. Second, this story contains **homoguyonguymanloveSLASH**! If you don't like it, save us all the trouble and for the love of God _don't_ read it!

* * *

There was no shortage of bloodshed in Europe. Every country of the Middle Ages seemed to have by and large regressed from learning and culture, and it was no surprise that mortals would later refer to this time as "The Dark Ages" too.

_Dark indeed_, Raphael thought. He stood alone on the edge of a recent French battlefield. Rain came down in a steady drizzle, but it did not wash away the blood pooling on the ground. Instead, the rainwater mixed with the blood, running and dribbling in incarnadine rivulets.

Raphael sighed sadly. "All this killing and for what?"

"Power."

The archangel tensed but did not turn around. He recognized that sibilant voice easily.

"Asmodeus."

"Bonjour, mon petit ange. Comment allez-vous?"

The archangel finally turned around, raising an eyebrow. For once Asmodeus didn't _seem_ threatening, but then again, there was no way he could trust the demon. "French?" he queried.

Asmodeus shrugged. "When in Rome…or—in this case—France."

The angel nodded his agreement warily.

The demon grinned, and it would've been an amiably gesture if his eyes didn't sparkle so unkindly. "Why so paranoid, hmm? It such a lovely day! Mortals slaughtering each other in passionate fits of rage! Why, most of these men have gone straight to hell!" Seeing the appalled look on Raphael's face he added. "I suppose that's a bad day for you, but look on the," he smirked, "_bright_side, for once I'm not here to bicker. I just came for the…"pleasure" of your company."

"I'll bet," the angel answered sarcastically. "And why should I believe a word you say, you—"

"Hush," Asmodeus interrupted smoothly. Long fingered hands motioning, he drew a tendril of shadow from the surrounding area. The archangel couldn't help but watch in fascination as the shadows transmuted into a rose bud. Before his eyes, it bloomed and then floated over to the air in front of him and hung suspended at shoulder level.

Raphael stared at the delicate blossom, amazed by its beauty. Pure white petals curled ever-so-slightly and the sweet fragrance that wafted from the rose was more lush than any perfume. The archangel marveled that such a wicked creature spawned from the dark fires of Hell could create a living thing of such perfection.

Reaching out, Raphael tentatively touched a creamy petal. Asmodeus stood by silently, arms folded across his chest. When the rose did not burst into flames or anything, Raphael gingerly grasped it only to jerk his hand away a moment later.

The rose fell soundlessly to the ground along with a few drops of blood; its unnaturally sharp thorns were now visible through the flower's dark green leaves. Raphael clutched his bleeding hand. He should've known.

Asmodeus looked on, smiling cruelly. Raphael was trusting by nature. No matter what, he'd always be a creature that sought out the good in everything, even a demon's "gift". Dissolving into shadow, Asmodeus re-solidified before the archangel. Raphael started to back away, but the demon seized his wrist, holding him tightly.

"Let _go_." Raphael's voice was calm, but his bright aura sparked warningly.

"Relax," Asmodeus purred, long fingers caressing Raphael's smooth skin. "I already gave you my word that I wouldn't do anything."

The archangel glared. "What good is the word of a demon who holds lying as and admirable quality?"

"Why, Raphael," Asmodeus mocked, affecting an innocent tone, "I'm hurt, and yet you're the one who's bleeding. Here, let me help you with that…"

"No!" the archangel shouted. He yanked his arm back, out of Asmodeus's grasp; but the demon used his momentum against him, pinning Raphael to a tree behind him. Shadows snuffed out the angel's bright aura, crawling on his skin and clothes and making him cringe.

Rain slid down their pale faces, but neither one spoke a word. Five seconds passed in hushed silence and even the very air seemed to hold its breath. Finally Asmodeus reached for Raphael's hand and brought it to his lips. The archangel let out a little gasp as a forked tongue licked the blood droplets from his rain-dampened skin.

"Stop…" Raphael whispered, the shadows still writhing and undulating. They literally suffocated him, blocking his aura and his breath till he felt lightheaded and could hardly speak at all. "Arrêt…s'il vous plaît…"

"As you wish," Asmodeus said, but his voice sounded faraway. In fact, everything seemed muted. Raphael was on the cusp of unconsciousness when the darkness released him, and he collapsed on the ground with a small thud. The wet grass was cool beneath him, and the archangel rested against the tree's trunk, trying to get his bearings.

Suspiciously he looked up at Asmodeus who was standing a few feet away. "You stopped."

"I did," the demon replied. His face was expressionless, giving nothing away, but a smudge of red lingered on his thin lips making Raphael shudder.

"Why?"

"Because you asked me to," Asmodeus answered matter-of-factly.

Raphael's eyes narrowed. "You're toying with me," he accused.

A lewd grin cut across Asmodeus's face. "But of course!" He smirked. "Now tell me, Raphael, what are you doing in this despairing place?"

Raphael's head had cleared again, and he stood up replying, "None of your business."

"Damage control then?" Asmodeus chuckled. "After bloodshed like this, it's no surprise that He would send at least one angel."

"Then leave me to my work."

"Very well. Je t'aime, Raphael."

The archangel actually glared. "How dare you mock me so. How can you speak of love as if you know it?"

"Oh, but I _do_ know love…it is no more than a mask for _lust_," he purred, drawing out the _s_ in a snakelike hiss.

"Depraved villain," Raphael retorted.

"Perhaps," the demon chortled. "Au revoir…or maybe I should say 'à bientôt'."

Raphael stared a long time at the last spot where Asmodeus had stood. The demon had melted away into shadows and left, taking the unnatural chill in the air with him. Eventually the archangel snapped out of whatever reflection that weighed on his mind. He _did_ have work to do.

But before he was able to leave, his gaze fell to the white rose which lay discarded on the ground. It no longer even appeared to have thorns, and Raphael started to reach for it but stopped himself.

He left it lying there.

fin-

**Footnotes**: _Bonjour, mon petit ange. Comment allez-vous?_—"Good day, my little angel. How are you?"  
_Arrêt…s'il vous plait_—"Stop…please"  
_Je t'aime_—"I love you"  
_Au revoir… à bientôt_—"Goodbye…see you soon"


End file.
